The Worst Part About Being Dragonborn
by The Fairy-est Fairy-Type
Summary: A short letter from the Dovahkiin detailing why being the savior of Skyrim is not pure heroics.


" _This letter was written by the Dragonborn during a prison sentence he had served after he allegedly attacked a Solitude guard for addressing him as "Dragonslayer." The Dragonborn has requested that this letter be published in every possible news outlet all across Skyrim, as a message to anyone and everyone who may speak to him in the future."  
_

 _-Local Solitude news  
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I know what you're thinking: What can possibly be bad about it? About being the fabled Dovahkiin? How can I, the savior of Skyrim; destroyer of the Dark Brotherhood; Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold; Harbinger of the Companions; Thane to all Jarls—how can all these wondrous, royal titles, each one well and truly earned, be bad? What can possibly be the drawback?

If you're saying that, you've clearly never heard a dragon in fear.

When I first discovered my dragon blood, I thought what all others did. That it was a gift, a blessing from the Nine. But now that the dragon war is over and Alduin is gone forever—as I continue to bring down the dragons that still fight—I'm realizing that this is not a blessing at all, but a curse.

Dragons are immortal creatures. They cannot die. At least, not without the intervention of a Dragonborn like myself. I absorb their knowledge, their soul, and assimilate it into my own being. But one thing most people don't know is that due to this, dragons can barely grasp the concept of mortality. They do not fully understand the idea of dying forever and an afterlife as they have never had the issue of living a finite life. And there is only one thing that can make dragons understand mortality: making them mortal.

It is uncertain what happens to a dragon once they die. They could unify with their father, Akatosh, once more, or they could be banished to the Deadlands as punishment for their crimes. We may never know. But seeing as how I am not only stealing but devouring their soul, their very existence, my most likely guess is that for them, there is nothing. No perception, no memories, no emotions, no consciousness—nothing. I pray that such a cruel, merciless fate does not await them, but I simply do not know—and neither do they. When dragons are confronted with the destruction of their very soul and are left in the face of something so unknown, so daunting, as an afterlife that they had never previously conceptualized, their terror is simply inconceivable. And as the Dovahkiin, the one who brings about their true death, I must bear full witness to it.

Seeing a dragon face-to-face with their very being coming to an end is one of the worst things a man can ever experience. Once the most proud, dignified, and elegant creatures in all of Nirn, all of that is replaced with fear at the moment of their true death. And the only thing worse than bearing witness to a dragon's end is being the one that ends the dragon.

Every time. There is no exception. Every single time I absorb and devour a dragon's soul, they are terrified beyond even the most dramatic measure. In the mere seconds in which I am in the midst of taking them into me, I can hear their hysterical voices ringing in my head, screaming at me to please stop doing this. Even Alduin did not remain dignified at the moment of his destruction. They all plead with me, beg me to let their soul remain intact.

"I'm not meant to die, Dovahkiin," they whimper. "I can't die. If you destroy my soul, will there even be an afterlife for me? Will I even still exist? Please, let my soul go on! Even the worst, most horrendous plane of oblivion is a better afterlife than none at all! Don't do this! I beg of you!"

And I do it anyway, because I must.

I've been telling myself it's a necessary evil. That in order to preserve mankind, I have no choice but to do this to these poor dragons. And while that may be true, I can still hardly live with the fact that I have not only ripped apart so many dragons' beings, confronted hundreds of them with a concept that they were intended by Akatosh to never have to face, but have also potentially removed them from ever being again. Nonexistence, a fate much, much worse than death. And in truth, in any circumstances other than the dragon war, my actions would have been considered heinous and despicable.

Their screams haunt me every night; I have forgotten how it feels to have a restful sleep. The terror I felt from their souls as I devoured them is a terror unmatched by even the most cowardly man. I came dangerously close to developing an addiction to Skooma, taking dose after dose of the poison to help rid my mind of the immense, suffocating guilt I feel.

That, my friends, is the worst part about being Dragonborn: Being the Dragonslayer. It is a part of me I hate, and wish never had to have happened. So, to anyone who may read this: If we cross each other's paths in the future, do NOT refer to me as "the Dragonslayer." I do not care who you are. You could be the High King of Skyrim for all I care; I will not hesitate to make you regret ever calling me such a horrid name. It is not an "honor." It is a reminder of the most disgusting actions I have ever committed in my entire life. I would rather you call me "filthy Argonian sneak thief" than "Dragonslayer." It fills me with rage and guilt to even think such a word exists—my hands are shaking in fury and sickness as I write this passage.

Thank you for your consideration.

 _~Dovahkiin_


End file.
